It’s a dog‘s life for Loki—and perhaps, if we’re fortunate, it could be ours too.
This week, I made a realization that hit me like a ton of bricks. My dog, Loki (or “Stinky Old Man,” as we affectionately call him due to his pungent farts and greying muzzle), turned 13. A milestone that brought with it a stark reminder of the inevitable passage of time.
Curious about his life expectancy, I turned to the trusty oracle in my pocket—the smartphone—and discovered that the average lifespan of a Staffordshire Bull Terrier is about 14 years.
Fourteen years? It doesn’t seem nearly enough.
In my more optimistic moments, I hold out hope that Loki might live to a grand age of 16, much like our previous family dog, who lived well into his twilight years. But as I realize that Loki’s time with us is finite, I’ve started to see life through a different lens—one shaped by the shared experiences I have with him. Because when you love a dog, it’s no longer just your life.
For full transparency, let me say this: I adore my dog to an almost embarrassing degree. If you don’t share this overwhelming affection for your dog, this article may not resonate with you. But if you do, welcome to my world.
Rethinking Priorities Through Mortality
Facing the reality of Loki’s finite time on Earth has forced me to re-examine how I spend my time and money. Why do I waste hours at the gym each week when I could be running on the beach with my loyal companion?
Sure, Loki can’t run as fast or as far as he used to. And yes, my workouts might not yield optimal results anymore. But every time we hit the beach together, watching him bound ahead with a grin plastered across his face, tongue hanging out in pure joy, I realize how fleeting these moments are. Does it really matter if my 5k time drops by a few minutes?
I’ve also been putting off hydrotherapy for his hips. He doesn’t recover as easily as he once did, but the monthly cost of his treatment is less than my gym membership. A bargain by any measure.
The Joy of Simple Pleasures
While I’ve cut out ice cream in pursuit of wedding dress goals and athletic pursuits, Loki has never cared about such things. He’s only ever interested in one thing—sharing that ice cream cone with me. His excitement is palpable the moment he realizes we’re heading for the drive-through. As I take the first few licks, he waits patiently before diving in, his messy, ice-cream-covered face a sight to behold.
How many more chances will I have to share that moment with him? Not many, I’m sure.
Rediscovering What Truly Matters
Car rides, beach runs, cuddles on the sofa, and a warm bed at night—these simple joys are what make Loki’s life meaningful. He doesn’t need much. And I’m beginning to think that maybe neither do I.
Many people—much more eloquent than I—have written about how dogs teach us to see the important things in life. But I think they also show us how short it is. Every beach run with Loki is one I can never get back.
So many of us focus on work, optimization, and constant self-improvement. We rush through life trying to make the most of every moment. But maybe the real life-hack isn’t about maximizing productivity or success. Maybe it’s about seizing the simple moments that bring us joy, like running on the beach or eating an ice cream with a friend.
After all, those moments are the ones that count. And they’re the ones we should cherish.
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